Winter November 20 - December 6, 2005 Some grow winter fur; our Lisa grows winter teeth

	Tom at the station, being a fine lady - he's simply still too small to be the sheriff

Winter came to our door. I'm aware that my readers who have been now for a few weeks shoveling their driveways clear, would find our California winter laughable; nevertheless I was forced to put aside my sandals and put on socks, which I hate. By noontime it usually gets quite warm still, hence I have a problem with kids' clothing -- they freeze in the morning and sweat at noon -- despite peeling them off like little onions.

By the end of November, my favorite holiday shows up -- Thanksgiving. This year it was a bit funny -- we used to go visit someone, unless somebody would visit with us, and then we immersed in classic American disciplines ordered for this day -- i.e. roasting a turkey, talking, mild drinking, and subsequently heavy eating. Alas, the employer (an airline) of our potential host Michelle called her to cover the holiday, and so 24 hours before giving thanks we ran out of plans.

I must say that in the end it actually was not bad at all. In the morning we dragged Suchýš to Felton to see the steam train (I realized that I see Suchýš, who's permanent residence is Prague, CZ, more often than Martin, who lives in Palo Alto). Suchýš is passionately interested in assorted historic junk, and so we thought he might like the engine sheds at Roaring Camp Railroads. He did -- after exchanging a few sentences with the foreman, both disappeared in the shed with fire in their eyes. We continues with Tom on our usual track by the duck pond and taking care of storm drains and sprinkler installations, and sighted Suchýš only when he drove out on the steam engine from the shed towards the station, where he purchased a regular ticked for the sightseeing ride. We had decided to pass on the ride this time -- after all only a few days had elapsed since we did it last time. We agreed that Suchýš would optionally stop by in the evening and drove back home. None of our cooking would contain anything related to turkey, but still we had a nice evening, although Suchýš did not have a chance to enjoy a true American Thanksgiving. We chatted a bit, and had some curry.

	With Liddy on a slide

The first of December brought me a new milestone -- my children were to undergo their respective medical exams, Lisa at her four months and Tom in his slightly belated one year. First surprise came from Tom -- at the parking lot near the medical center, he declared "fish" and "tata" (daddy) -- last time we had been there for Lisa's two month's exam; Sid had then only passed Tom to me. It startled me that Tom had recognized the center right from the lot, and that he recalled Sid's presence and the fish in an aquarium in the waiting room. The actual exam proceeded somewhat chaotically, but fortunately the doctor gave us everything in writing (they must have their experience with scatterbrained mothers). Lisa at her four months measured 2 feet and 2 inches, had 14 pounds and 1 ounce; Tom at his two years was 2 feet and 11 ¹/₂ inches, and had 28 pounds and 7 ounces. Thus both kids were for their age above average tall, and massed about average. The doctor was very impressed by Lisa, who -- again -- showed off socially: she communicated, showed joy, turned around, and overall tried to tell us that she appreciated professional attention. The doctor also praised Tom for his skills, which was very nice of her -- especially considering the fact that Tommy communicated with her at the level of a village idiot (inarticulate aaah and eeeeh), and refused to present at least the few words that he knows.

	Lisa was much interested in a baby of her age

Both children got inoculated. I attempted to explain to Tom, what that was about; oddly enough, I may have succeeded. He bleeped once, but carried on bravely, although he reminded us the whole day that he received "prick prick" and that it was "ow ow" (there were two injections). Lizzy actually got four, but she does not mind these things much -- she probably considered it a part of this highly social event.

One day I collected my courage and drove out on my own, well, with my kids, to Berkeley to see Jitka. Her Liddy would be four in December, Míša is just a month older than our Lisa, so we have plenty to compare. Tommy started to really enjoy playing with Liddy just as we were getting ready to return. Lisa and Míša sized each other for a while and then proceeded to suck on each other's hands. Unfortunately, as it happens around kids, I did not manage to catch this moment photographically.

It seems that Lisa won't suffer a shortage of friends. Now that the count of our neighbors with children of roughly the same age had increased to three, I invited them over to our house. One extra mom came who had simply heard about the event. In the next week a lady asked me in the street whether I knew anything about mothers gathering around here. Now two days ago Julie reported that she had met another, about five months old baby. We all live within several houses from each other, so it would appear that a year ago there were some sun spots or extraterrestrials were experimenting with home sapiens' reproductive process.

	Left to right Sasha (3m), Julianna (2m), Dominic (3m), Lexi (5w) and Lisa (4m)

Lisa enjoys such company very much, but Tommy exclaimed right during the first get-together and caused one scene after another. I did not believe my eyes -- my quiet, level-headed, always smiling toddler fought for toys, screamed, raged, stomped his feet, and eventually smacked one poor little baby so badly that I thought I rip him to pieces right on spot. Comparing it to times when K.C. is visiting, Tom is normally able to share toys without problems, the boys sometimes play interactively and stay cool. A similar good mood prevails when we go to visit someone. I had no idea that a company of four extra babies in his own home would make Tommy flip out so much. For the next get-together, I had rather invited Barbara and sent them out on a walk. I did want to have chance to chat with the other girls and not just keep solving Toms fits of jealousy.

	A manhole is interesting all by itself, but on this specimen, we're letting the sun melt a piece of ice

On one weekend we journeyed up to the Lick Observatory on Mt. Hamilton. You get there by a long, miserable, narrow road, which must cross two mountain ranges. I was getting sick from all those switchbacks and Tom had managed somehow mysteriously soak his pants in the water from his drinking cup. When we, up on top in 4,200 feet, had opened our car's door, we discovered that 1,250 meters of altitude difference also meant some sixty degrees difference in temperature. It was not quite hot in our valley either, but frost and icy wind took us by surprise (especially in conjunction with wet Tom). We trotted over to the warm observatory, where we at least gave Tom a dry diaper, and we checked out the displays. A large panoramic photograph caught our attention, which was clearly showing Half Dome. We had put on all our clothes again that we could scrounge, and ventured out to find out if you could really get a view all the way to Sierra Nevada. Never before would the weather permit such a sight, but on this clear, frosty day, it seemed promising. Eventually, a local policeman pointed it out for us: a Yosemite mountain cliff 157 miles (253 km) away.

While we, adults, were enjoying this uncommon sight, Tommy engaged in discovering local attractions at the floor level. I.e., curbs and drains. Together we spotted a frozen up puddle and our California baby met with his first natural ice (without refrigerator). We demonstrated that ice is slippery and that it melts in direct sunlight. There was still much frost in the shaded areas, we told Tommy that it was snow. He was trying whether it's really cold and ever since then he yells while watching Maxidog Fiq the polar explorer that they have "-now" there.

	My pregnancy with Lisa has no end

Tom took his doctor's advice and has been convincing us that he means to take talking seriously. He began to extend his minimalist vocabulary. Naturally he focused on words that he considers "important" -- for example, he took fancy in a tiny flag stuck in an orange at a sushi bar -- so he calls bread "ba", but he pronounces "flag" almost flawlessly. We understand that it's most valuable that he attempts to hold conversations; he even knows how to telephone. Ever since he was a little baby, he's been fascinated by push button, and he would yell "tata" or "baba" whenever seeing a handset, but now he's able to respond over the phone to Sid's questions, how he's been and what he was doing all day. To our surprise, he can pick the most important thing of the day (even though it'd happened several hours ago) and explain to daddy, for example, that he'd seen "fish". Sid wondered where we might have gone to see fish, and before I could clarify that it was during our visit to our friends' house, Tom seriously said "there" and waved his little hand into the distance -- which Sid could not see, of course, but my heart melted.

	Half Dome as seen from 157 miles away

From my friend, who lives "there", we borrowed a "cage". Lizzy is incredibly active and wants to discover the world, which, of course, is neither simple, nor safe. Her attempts to jump out of her bouncing seat were already encountered one success, when Sid forgot to strap her down. Since then we make sure to use the harness, which she responds to with leaning out and screaming. I could simply put her down on the floor, but it already contains a great amount of Tom's toys (cars, airplanes, trains); moreover, Tom can reach her there. He invents various silly things to entertain his little sister, which make Lisa laugh unstoppably, but I often run out of fun. A game, when Tom lifts Lisa's little legs and drives under them like under railroad gate with his car, is actually cute. A game, when Tom practices jumping over a live obstacle (sister) -- not so much. I completely omit describing dangerous feats like a ride of the big truck over Lisa, sitting on little sister, plus all expressions of affections. Tommy insists on tongue-kissing his sister, which in his version includes kneeling down to her, propping his hand on her belly and trying to break her neck with his other hand, to turn her head into a position most suitable for him. The aforementioned list makes, I hope, clear why I cannot leave the children even a second without supervision -- they love each other, like to play together, but neither one has enough sense. I am not afraid that Tom would hurt Lisa on purpose, but he simply sometimes comes up with silly ideas. And since I sometimes must put at least a dozen feet between me and them (e.g. when going to a bathroom, or to pour boiled pasta through a sieve, or to empty our mailbox), I began to search for a playpen.

	They say girls are much quieter and orderly than boys ... HAHA!

	Our sweet little baby Tommy

I was not sure about chances the baby-cage had, and therefore I just borrowed it. It's a hybrid of a crib (which we have, but which is too small for Lizzy) and a corral. Lisa can stay relatively warm -- several inches above ground and on top of a mattress -- while being safe behind an elastic mesh. Alas, as soon as Tom spotted the playpen, he rigged his small chair next to it -- and I ended with BOTH kids inside, whom I must continue to watch and cannot leave even for a moment. The toughest punishment for Tom has lately been a threat that he would not be allowed into the cage with Lizzy. I hope that this enthusiasm shall soon wither and the furniture will begin to fulfill its function of a children's separator. Lately, Tom also has been demanding to have everything like his little sister -- he crawls into her car seat and on her bouncy chair; he even once insisted to have his nose treated with drops and suction hose, when Lisa caught cold. Fortunately this recessive behavior of Tom's ends with sampling whatever Lisa's got -- and does not aim at removal of his sibling or taking her place, of which I heard from some friends who are also mothers.

Lizzy visibly prospers in her brother's company. They often communicate in some baby language (Tom mimics Lisa so well that I have not been able to tell which one currently "speaks"), Tommy tries to entertain Lisa, make her smile of laugh, and Lisa pays back with great affection, reaching for him with her little arms, catching him, laughing and overall making it obvious that she thinks her brother is great. It seems to me that Lisa may be developmentally slightly ahead -- but I don't have much to compare with; given Tommy's preemie status, he cannot be considered a reference material. Nevertheless Lisa's teeth started definitely early. I found her first one, to my huge surprise, in her seventeenth week. I had found it strange that she had been biting into everything like a beaver -- but I really did not expect to find a fully exposed incisor. A second one cut through shortly thereafter, and we can only wait for other surprises our little miss has ready for us.

Care for two kids is probably most demanding in not leaving time left for anything else. You can put one child simply down, but not two (especially if the smaller one insists on mother's presence and would rather die starving than to suck a bottle). My greatest success of last few weeks is our visit to a movie theatre. Yes: I had spent whole three hours out of reach of sticky little hands and out of earshot from whining and screaming. Our neighbors' granny Julie promised to sleep over at our house and thus provide elementary supervision. Still, we did not dare to leave her alone with alert kids; we had decided to wait for our offspring to fall asleep. Obviously, Lisa took advantage of that. However regularly she would fade away after nine p.m. before, on this day she was up and about still by ten. When finally at 10:07 her eyelids had closed shut, a swift action ensued that would make FBI special forces proud -- in three minutes we were dressed and in our car, and by 10:30 we sat down in a theatre, watching the fourth sequel of Harry Potter. For the first half of the movie I had to bite my tongue with every louder sound -- I had a nagging urge to hiss for the sound to be turned down, for it might wake my kids.

	Kids demand to share the cage

	They're there, but Lisa hates to show them!

I don't know if I'm permitted to interfere with Nitpicker's job (Sid used to write movie reviews), but I can't keep away from mentioning a few glimpses. They really managed to squeeze the whole fourth book into 150 minutes of a movie. The whole thing therefore gives the impression of a trailer to the book -- a quick sequence of key scenes cannot make sense to a person new to the story. An unnecessary, long action chase with a dragon consumes precious minutes, which later requires sacrifice of a conclusion to a twist, when Harry finds Barty Crouch dead -- it ends there with no follow-up -- as if fourteen year old boys stumbled upon dead bodies so matter-of-factly that they not only don't raise alarm, but don't even find it worthy of mentioning to their friends. The situation with Crouch does not get explained anywhere in the movie thereafter. Similarly, Rita Skeeter is torn out of context. She quizzes Harry and writes a few distorted articles -- and that's her all part in the movie. A viewer can rightfully ask, why was this woman shown at all and why her introduction took so much time, which could have been used elsewhere. The movie pleased me in at least one aspect. Authors had managed to translate scary parts of the story without naturalistic horrors, gallons of ketchup or disgusting animatronic masks, without depriving the story of it's substance.

As of now, we all (except Sid) are sick, and so we're not much fun. I myself would need to collapse in my bed; instead, I care for two whiny little kids. Lisa exhibits any illness by insanely sticking to her mother -- sometimes I wonder whether she had noticed we ceased to be connected by an umbilical cord. Actually, the way she clings to me, the cord could get useful sometimes -- at least she would not train her new teeth on me during feeding. Tommy, on the other hand, becomes problematic with going to bed and sleeping. He has trouble breathing, coughs like a veteran smoker and is fussy due to lack of exercise. Of course I take him out, but he's been so tired that he keeps climbing back into the stroller. Illnesses wreak havoc in our social and active life -- we can't invite people over and we are prevented from planning ambitious trips, hence we keep dithering in and around the house, which is quite tiresome. I hope that at least Christmas shall make things more fun and different.

Copyright © 2005-2006 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.